


Primary Basis

by Deadlock (cometstail)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Begging, Hints of Plot, Inappropriate Use of Stasis Cuffs, Light BDSM, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, another overused interrogation kink bc fuck u I love it, well it's more cleaning up than aftercare bc Jazz clonked out from sheer exhaustion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 05:49:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18219032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cometstail/pseuds/Deadlock
Summary: Prowl has his ways of getting what he wants.





	Primary Basis

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in, like, one night what the fuck. When will my muse EVER be that strong again. And just in case anyone's worried, yes this is 100% consensual I just love torturing Jazz >;3c
> 
> Also this is. uh. my first TF porn so bear with me as I get used to the new vocab OTL

The fact that their shared habsuit was dark should've been the first warning. As it was, Jazz stumbled in, completely drunk off enjex and high off the thrill of a post-battle party. The only thing that could, as the humans would say, put the cherry on top was a good hard frag with his sparkmate.

Jazz squinted. Speaking of Prowl, where was he? He saw the mech at the party, but things started getting a little hazy after the fourth cube of high-grade.

"Prowl?"

The door slid close behind him with what felt like an ominous hiss.

Jazz shook his head. It was probably just the engex.

Just as he was about to reach for the light switch, familiar servos wrapped around his mid-section.

"Prowler!" His flight or fight protocols began to subside. He turned his helm to flash the other mech a smile, the barest hint of nervousness still present. "Ya almost gave me a spark-attack." The slight scare sobered him up completely.

He twisted his frame in Prowl's grip before pulling the tactician into a sloppy kiss. Instead of answering, Prowl started backing Jazz up until the saboteur was laid sprawled against their berth. Jazz, still intent on getting that frag, didn't complain.

This time, Prowl did pull back. "I saw you talking with Wheeljack." He slung his pedes over Jazz, fully straddling him. He tilted his helm. "What were you discussing?"

Prowl remembered the look on their faces at the party: the cheeky way Wheeljack grinned and how Jazz sneaked glances towards Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Anything involving those three aroused suspicion, and Prowl was determined to find out through any means necessary.

Prowl looked down at Jazz's hungry expression. Even through interrogating his significant other until he was half-mad.

Realizing what Prowl was talking about, Jazz shook his helm. "Sorry, lover." His visor brightened, the edges of his intake upturned fondly. "But I promised ta keep m'lips sealed."

Prowl narrowed his optics. "Last chance, what are they planning?"

"I ain't tellin' ya anythin'."

He presses his lip plates together, then hummed. "Is that so?"

Prowl began trailing kisses down the side of the other mech's helm. His servos dug into sensitive transformation seems, tracing the frame and pulling wires.

"Nooo," Jazz, realizing what Prowl was doing, tried to wriggle away.

In that instant, he heard the telltale click of stasis cuffs being activated and a familiar low buzzing noise.

Oh frag.

He looked up and tugged at the cuffs that forced his servos above his helm, which as usual would not give. He then looked back at Prowl. The gaze being directed at him was nothing short of intense, and Jazz fought the urge to gulp. His lover was serious.

Prowl tapped a digit onto Jazz's interface panel which snapped open obediently. His valve, embarrassingly enough, was already leaking lubricant.

"Eager, are we?" Yet Jazz heard Prowl's own cooling fans click on, betraying the carefully crafted composure.

"It's been'a long day." Jazz grinned, struggling for his own last shred of self-control.

"Well," Prowl said, "it's going to be a longer night."

  


* * *

  


He slammed in, magnetizing the false spike into place.

Jazz howled. His valve spasmed, clenching and unclenching as lubricant gushed out. He tried to squirm away from the unrelenting vibrations from his ceiling node, but the toy hardly jostled.

"No, no, no!" Jazz thrashed in his bounds. "Ah, please Prowler, _mercy!"_

Prowl's only response was to turn the vibrations to its maximum setting. 

Jazz shrieked, trying to close his legs from the sudden onslaught. Prowl caught them and hooked his servos under a knee instead to spread them wider. He leaned down between trembling thighs to press a nose ridge against Jazz's anterior node, hearing the saboteur whimper.

Jazz writhed as he felt so many sensitive nodes along his valve being stimulated. Even the clusters deep inside weren't spared from the unrelenting torture, prompting more lubricant to ooze out. He moaned when Prowl started circling his anterior node with his glossa, and cried out when he began nipping at it. His vision was pixelating at the corners, vocalizer pure static now. Every time his charge build up high enough, though, his overload would be cruelly snatched away by the inhibitor.

Jazz's helm rolled to the side, sobbing helplessly. Minute twitches and charge jumped over his frame as he drooled. His vocalizer reset once, twice, before he could form any coherent speech. "Please," he finally whimpered, static still audible, _"please, please, please let me overload."_

Prowl glanced up at him. "You know what I want," he said, ex-vents ghosting over Jazz's abused node. Jazz shuddered.

He buried his face plate into the crook of an arm. "The–- the twins an' 'Jack are--" he finally gasped out, "plannin' anotha' prank war."

Prowl gave another hard lick against his anterior node, making Jazz arch and cry out, before leaning away and flipping the false spike off. Jazz slumped against his restraints.

Gingerly, almost methodologically, Prowl began to pull the toy out. Jazz felt relief wash over him. He whined at the feeling, valve still oversensitive, only to let out a wail when it was jammed back in.

"When?"

"Tomorrow!" He tugged helplessly at the cuffs. "When-- when, _ah,_ they think ya schedule's too full ta stop 'em!" Jazz quivered, feeling coolant drip down his face plates. "Oh, _oh please,_ no more!"

Prowl gave one final twist, just to watch Jazz arch again and throw his helm back.

Finally satisfied, Prowl slipped the false spike off. He produced a clean cloth from his subspace, taking his time on cleaning it, letting Jazz tremble and wait beneath him. When he finally tucked the toy away for later use, Jazz was already tethering on the edge of awareness.

He just wanted to overload.

Prowl, instead, leaned forward to kiss him. He enjoyed moments like these, with Jazz pliant and needy under him. Jazz let his lip plates be coaxed open, moaning softly as their glossas mingled, and tried to weakly kiss back.

Jazz felt digits prod the rim of his valve, before they slowly sunk in. He groaned, muffled by the kiss. Prowl inwardly marveled at how lax the soft mesh was; he could easily slip in four digits and still have room for more.

Hm. Now there's a thought.

"Please..." Jazz whispered, and Prowl's processors filed the idea away another time. He placed a chaste kiss on parted lip plates before withdrawing the digits. His interface panel snapped open again, the head of his spike pressing against his partner's entrance.

Prowl let himself sink completely into Jazz, groaning at how hot and wet his valve felt. He reached down to unclasp the inhibitor and wrap Jazz's spike with his servos. His hips stuttered up, keening.

Prowl's thrusts were hard and deep, but slow enough so he could feel the calipers trying to grip his spike. Prowl pumped Jazz's own spike at the same pace, beads of transfluid already forming at the tip.

It didn't take long to build Jazz's charge, and even lesser time for him to near overload. He arched his spinal struts, screaming until his vocalizers gave out and his visor flickered off, painting transfluid all over his chassis.

Prowl groaned at the sudden tightness. His thrusts faltered. 

He milked Jazz's overload to the very last drop, until Jazz whined and tried to writhe away from overstimulation.

The moment Jazz was slumped over, Prowl grabbed at his thighs and bent him almost in half to chase his own overload. He spilled in a couple of thrusts later, filling Jazz with the warm heat of his transfluid. The saboteur could only whimper, exhausted.

He pulled away then, and gently laid Jazz's pedes down.

Their ex-vents were the only sounds in the room, cooling fans still whirring. Prowl took that moment to admire the sight. Jazz, cuffed to the berth, coolant from his visor drying, drool dripping down his still parted lip plates, chassis covered in his own transfluids, and pedes spread obscenely wide. His swollen valve was leaking with a mixture of lubricant and Prowl's own transfluid, flushed and irritated from overuse.

Prowl felt an almost overwhelming sense of possessiveness. He ex-vented slowly, basking in the afterglow.

As usual, he took his time cleaning. He tended to Jazz first, of course, a damp washcloth wiping the fluids away. Prowl unlocked the stasis cuffs and packed it neatly into his subspace. When he was done, he set to work cleaning himself up.

Jazz was already bundled under the covers when his visor flickered on, dim.

"Don' b'so harsh on'em." He mumbled.

Prowl smiled instead, wrapping a servo around Jazz's mid-section and pressing a lingering kiss onto his audials. "Don't you worry about that. Good night, love."

Jazz grumbled something incoherent, but finally succumbed to his recharge. Prowl began silently plotting ways to apprehend Wheeljack and the twins tomorrow morning before anything could be damaged. An Enforcer's work is never done.

**Author's Note:**

> Prowl: *offhandedly implies fisting*  
> Jazz: owo?


End file.
